


In Which Cid Talks About Vincent...

by Calvi_sama



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calvi_sama/pseuds/Calvi_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens when you sit down at a table with Cid...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Cid Talks About Vincent...

“I like t’watch ‘im when he sleeps,” Cid says around a lit cigarette clamped between his teeth. He studies the man across from him through the blue-gray smoke and with one eye squeezed shut skeptically.  
  
“And why is that?” the man asks.  
  
“Why? Well I’m surprised y’had t’ask me that, son.” Cid pauses a moment to kick up his feet onto the table as he draws out a dog-eared, somewhat faded photograph from the stained front pocket of his work shirt. The picture is of Vincent, of course, caught in one of the rare moments he is actually smiling. A real, true, reaches-the-eyes, transformative smile, and the difference between the man in the photo and the man everyone knew in real life is shocking. It is obvious by the condition of the photo and the dirt smudges around the edge of it that Cid looks at it quite often. Just as he is now as he continues to speak to his companion in a soft voice, quite uncharacteristic to his reputation, and perhaps even his nature. He runs a perpetually dirty, blunt finger over Vincent’s face, nothing more than a butterfly’s touch.  
  
“S’cause he don’t hurt when ‘e’s sleepin’,” Cid murmurs. “Well, ‘cept when he has them damned nightmares o’ his, but they’ve almost completely stopped now. Y’know ever’one thinks I just like t’sleep all th’ time, but what they don’t realize is ‘at I stay up all night watchin’ him, s’ by th’ time he wakes me up t’start th’day I just went t’ bed!” Cid laughs at this, apparently finding it very funny. He sobers, though, as he says around an exhalation of more smoke, “I don’t tell ‘im though, ‘cause then he’d make m’ stop, or he’d just stop sleepin’ all t’gether, ‘n then I wouldn’t be able t’watch im no more.”  
  
“But why d’you like to watch him only while he’s sleeping? Why not awake?”  The man asks in confusion.  
  
Cid looks up sharply from the photograph in his hand, feet thumping back down onto the floor, incredulity very evident in his expression. He leans forward almost threateningly. “Have ya not been listenin’ t’what I’ve been sayin’, ya idjit? Get’chur car keys out’chur ear ‘n pay attention ‘r I’m done talkin’ t’ya!”  
  
The man quickly moves to mollify the airship captain and holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “My apologies, Mr. Highwind, please, continue.”  
  
“’Chur damn right ‘My apologies’,” Cid snorts and goes back to petting the picture as a smile finds its way back onto his face. Vincent always had that effect on him. “I’m gonna take pity on ya since yer s’damn slow ‘n repeat m’self. I watch ‘im when e’s sleepin’ ‘cause he don’t hurt when ‘e’s sleepin’.” The pilot sighs a little dreamily. “’E’s s’damn  _beautiful_ , it breaks m’heart, ‘n when ‘e’s sleepin’ all that sorrow that he hauls around with ‘im just… goes away ‘n it’s like I’m almost lookin’ at a differn’t man. I’ll bet it’s what ‘e looked like before that crackpot bastard got a’hold of ‘im and took all ‘o his reasons fer smilin’ away. I’m convinced ‘at’s what happened. But I’m tryin’ a fix that! I’m tryin’ t’give him reasons t’smile again. See, I done good here!” He holds the photo up for his companion to look at and the man agrees that Vincent is quite beautiful. Cid snorts as though to say ‘well duh’, but his expression changes to one of slight embarrassment as he rubs the back of his neck with the hand that had surrendered his cigarette to his lips. “’Course ‘e is! But… uh… I don’t ‘member what I did to make ‘im smile like that, but at least I got a pitcher so’s I know that I did  _somethin’_  right. But it’s more’n that, though. Just lookin’ at ‘im like this brings me somethin’ akin t’ peace, ‘n I can’t help but smile back at it, ya know?”  
  
The man says that he knows. Cid does not really hear him, or is just not paying attention.  
  
“I wish ever’one could see what I see at night, but on th’ other hand I’m a selfish old bastard ‘n I wanna keep that perfect serenity t’ m’self. It’s mine, ‘n I fought damn hard for it. It’s his gift t’ me, s’what it is. ‘N ‘e don’t even know ‘e’s given it. Th’ way ‘is lips turn down in a pout just makes me wanna kiss ‘im.   _Fuck_  e’s a good kisser, ya know that? All soft ‘n the right places ‘n hard ‘n the rest ‘cause ‘e knows what e’s doin’. I’ve always loved ‘at about ‘im. When ‘e knew what ‘e wanted ‘e went for it, ‘lock, stock ‘n barrel’, e’d say. But th’ trick was t’get ‘im t’ admit ‘e wanted it, see. ‘Cause otherwise ‘e’d get all broody n’ quiet ‘n shit, ‘n that always done drove me insane.”  
  
“Y’know,” Cid sighs then grunts as he kicks his feet back onto the table, taking a drag off of his cigarette. The photo rests in his lap. He does not take his free hand off of it. “People don’t realize how fragile ‘e is? I mean, sure, ‘e’s got a nearly indestructible body ‘n shit, but there’s more’n one way t’be fragile.” Cid points to his head soberly. “It’s up here, see. S’like ‘e’s walkin’ th’ fine line b’tween normal ‘n crazy. E’s closer t’crazy, see, ‘n all o’ us ‘r hanging off’n his other side to keep him from tippin’ over th’ line. E’s gettin’ his balance back, though, ‘n one by one we’re lettin’ go as ‘e proves ‘e c’n walk that line alone. ‘Cept me, though.” Cid says this firmly, jerking a thumb towards his chest. “I ain’t ever gonna let him go. Even when I jerk him over inta ‘normal’, I ain’t ever gonna let him go.”  
  
The man remains silent and Cid joins him, scowling as he thinks something mysterious, or perhaps he’s just thinking about how much he wants a cup of tea. Finally he mumbles, “I reckon I ought not ‘t’ave said all ‘o that, but somethin’ tells me ya ain’t the type t’ blab, s’just forget talkin’ t’me tonight.” He looks up at his companion as he slips the beloved photo back into his pocket. “Here pal, lemme buy ya a beer.”   
  
He waves Tifa over and purchases two beers.   
  
While the two men wait for their drinks to find their way back to their table, the man says sincerely, “Thank you for telling me what you did.”  
  
Cid waves the gratitude away with the hand holding his cigarette while the other hand, now free, taps an index finger against his temple. “Just you remember not t’tell anyone what I told’ja, got it?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” is the reply.  
  
“Good.” Cid sits back as Tifa sets down their drinks and he winks at her as she turns to walk away, earning him a warm, knowing smile in return. He picks up his beer by the neck of the bottle and takes a long drink before smacking his lips and saying, “Now, did I ever tell you ‘bout th’time Cloud dressed up as a girl?”


End file.
